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“I think about you.”
“Spanking me?” she volunteered, so quickly he knew it had become one of her favorite scenarios.
“Sometimes. That’s more of an opening act than a finale for me. Nice as it is, usually I want more than your pretty backside turned up for me. Once I’m done giving that ass much-needed attention, I imagine flipping you around and setting you in front of me, just like this.”
“L-like this?”
“Uh-huh. Leave the towel alone,” he admonished when she fingered the fabric. “Do as I say and I’ll tell you what happens next.”
“I’m all ears…”
“Good.”
“…and no eyes,” she added under her breath.
When had he become such a masochist? Through his shorts, he wrapped his hand around his jutting shaft. Just for a second. Just to relieve the crippling pressure. “You know that show you did? Where you bounced around in a cheerleading outfit?”
“Pep Rally?”
“Yeah. There’s a scene where you make out with what’s-his-face behind the bleachers. They shot it in shadows, but at one point, the camera picks up a flash of your tits.”
She pressed her hand to her torso, and then slid it up to cup her breast. “They didn’t show much. It’s TV.”
What’s-his-face had gotten an eyeful, though. Was what’s-his-face the guy at the other end of the phone? “They showed the swell of your right breast, from the side. They showed the whole profile in shadow, while that lucky son of a bitch put his hands all over you.”
“Luke McLean, have you jacked off to my TV-14 topless scene?”
“A thousand times,” he freely admitted, and gave himself a hard pull. Hard enough to lift his balls. Hard enough to feel a tingle in the soles of his feet. “But lately when I jack off, I fantasize about other things.”
“What things?”
Your mouth. About pulling you close and staking a claim to that smart, reckless, distraction of a mouth.
His heart kicked up at the prospect, but kissing Quinn took this from proving a point to something else. Something neither of them could allow. Pushing her to the breaking point meant one of them needed to stay in control. She’d defaulted to seduction—a choice that no doubt usually got her whatever she wanted—and he had to remember what she really wanted right now wasn’t him, but the upper hand. And a little relief. He’d give her relief, but he’d keep the upper hand.
“I think about having you here in front of me, pushing your top down so I can get a real look at you. Do that now.”
If she hesitated at all, he didn’t perceive it. True, she’d wanted him to cater to her needs, but she’d recognize he’d found another way of helping her. He didn’t have to deny his attraction, only her demand that he act on it. She could act on it, secure in the knowledge that by abiding by his rules, she was actually seducing them both. Twisted, but effective. Apparently she agreed, because she flicked the skinny straps of her top off her shoulders, and then pushed the fabric down until her breast spilled over. Her low, shuddering sigh topped the moment like a cherry.
“I imagine you filling your hands with them. Lifting and kneading and showing me just how you like to be touched.”
She was so suggestible, his words alone tightened her nipples, bringing the rosy crests to small, hard peaks. The air conditioner kicked on and cool air fell on them from a vent overhead. A little shiver and a throaty moan told him how hyperaware she was to every sensation. “Show me, Trouble. Show me what you like.”
The room filled with the slide of soft skin against even softer skin. She stroked and squeezed silky smooth flesh, giving both breasts attention.
“You’re rough with yourself,” he growled, and gave himself another ruthless pull. She wasn’t the only one who liked it rough.
“I have an imagination, too. You have big hands. I know how strong they are.” The words puffed out as she captured one stiff nipple and dragged it through the tight clamp of her fingers. “I don’t think you’d hold back on my account.”
He watched, hypnotized, as her nipple turned deep red, just before springing free of the trap. “You might be surprised what kind of gentleness I’m capable of.”
She frowned. Her hands stilled. “Not for me.”
“Especially for you. Lower your hands.”
She did as he asked, leaving herself as she was, with the wreckage of her workout top tangled below her breasts and the marks from her overeager obedience on her pale skin. He shifted positions, putting his weight on his other knee, leaning in close enough to let his T-shirt graze her nipples.
“Oh,” she gasped and jerked back so quickly, her breasts bounced against the awkward shelf of crumpled fabric.
